Manatees, Almost Useless

 

There is an interesting article in the latest NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC Magazine about Manatees. At Crystal River in Florda the Cleawater Aquarium has determined that Manatees are starving in the waterways of Crystal River. They say an adult manatee weighs several hundred pounds need to eat about 100 pounds to survive. And with donations, underwater edible plants the food averages out 50 or so pounds a day. As the director said, “the Manatee are our canary in the coal mine.”. Mine workers used to have a live canary in a cage in the coal mine and when it dropped over dead they knew there were too much loose case to continue.

As far as scientists know manatees are one of two species that have no natural enemies. No other animal wants to eat them. So, they could die off, not by being eaten but starvation. You know they are mammals?

The other mammal that has no know natural enemies is a big creature, about the same size and built as a manatee. They live on sea sides, deserted beaches, and so on. They have big sloppy noses, or beaks. I did not catch the name. It might just be another breed of the manatee.

Chicken Fat on Door Nobs

 

Football Stanley!

 

Posted on Facebook 4 Years Ago:

Today Anna was looking for a certain recipe that she has seen before in a church published or civic organization cookbook. In the Maple Avenue Methodist Church Cookout she came across the recipe for making peanut brittle by Stanley Hunter, my late uncle.

Which reminded me just a week or so ago I was with my mother-in-law, some place, I forgot where, and she came upon a lady about her age, she was in school with and they hugged. Then, my mother-in-law, Marie, introduced me to the lady. She said I was her son-in-law, and she added, "Stanley Hunter was his uncle."

The lady's eyes lit up. She smiled and said with enthusiasm , "Football Stanley!"

Atlanta Company Still Practiced Slavery Years After the Civil War

 Posted on Facebook one year ago:

Either this morning or yesterday morning I heard on the radio that there was traffic snarl on Bolton Road (Atlanta) and the announcer went on to say if you do not want to be part of this traffic problem here is a way to go around it: Take Parrot Street! Take Parrot Street and you will miss the traffic tie up and end up back on Bolton Road. I thought to my self it was not Parrot Street, it is Parrot Avenue. I should know, I worked for Sinclair Refining Company on Parrot Avenue three years, after I got our of the Navy.. After the next song or announcement the announcer said that is Parrot Avenue, not Parrot Street.

Working at Sinclair on Parrot Avenue the side of my desk was a window that overlooked Parrot Avenue crossing railroad tracts and on the other side, alongside the Chattahoochee River was the big layout of THE CHATTAHOOCHEE BRICK COMPANY.

Yes, I said THE CHATTAHOOCHEE BRICK COMPAY.

The Chattahoochee Brick Company was in full operation as early as the Civil War.

One time I Googled Chattahoochee Brick. One of the things that popped up suggested slavery lasted until 1942; Black laborers were rumored to be buried on the property, et.

Back in slavery times Chattahoochee Brick Company got most of their manual labor from the slaves that was locked up in the Fulton County Jail.

After slavery was ended they did not change their labor ways. In fact, some men of color were arrested for just being at the wrong place and the wrong time.

Tch tch.

SUNDAY FUNNIES: FABULOUS FREAK BROTHERS by Gilbert Shelton

 

Click on each to make it larger, and maybe readable.

Tom Petty

  My mother's brother Tom Petty (1908-1979) is getting a little sugar from his wife Mary Jo Johns (1913 - 2000)., in front of the Christmas Tree.

Tom was from Murray County, Georgia, northwest of Chatsworth and Mary Jo was from Calhoun, Georgia., just down the road.

Tom had an interesting trip in his formative years: When a adolescent he moved with his family to Gillespie, Wyoming, where my mother was born. At that time there were seven kids. They lived there a couple of years but found out they couldn't make a living homesteading, so went back east. Their mother and the younger kids returned east by train. Their father and the two older boys, Tom and Roy carried their wagon and livestock across land, seeing a good part of the yet to mature United States. They got to sleep under the stars at night. Talk about quality time.

AAARRRGGG!

 

American Gothic hidinng

 

Me & Ruby Steele

 Jean Steel and her mother Ruby Steel at my parents 50th Anniversary. Ruby's and her husband Pete Steel owned and operated Steel's Grocery next to the Clay Homes. I could throw a rock from our apartment and shatter a window in their home in back of the store. I came close to almost doing just that. Actually I threw a hand full of gravel at the window of Jean and Helen steel's playhouse behind the house behind the store and breaking it.

I remember getting into trouble for doing it.

The other picture is a picture of Ruby visiting us in our apartment and I'm the dirty little kid beside her.

I wonder why she is visiting? Probably to collect for a broken window. I remember throwing a rock and breaking the window of her daughters' playhouse in the backyard. I was mad.

Book Report on Harvey Kurtzman's MAN AND SUPERMAN AND OHER STORIES

 

I  read something the other day about MAN AND SUPERMAN illustrated by Harvey Kurtzman.  I recognized that book.  As a matter of fact, I remembered I own it but have no idea what it is about.

I found it in my collection, a 170 page hardbound.  My bookmark was just after the introduction by Thommy Burns.

Then I read it (years after I bought it).

It is a collection of Kurtzman illustrations  in EC Comics before he started doing the two war comics and after that MAD Comicbooks and the first few MAD Magazines before he and publisher Bill Gaines clashed.   It has 22 Kurtzman illustrated stores.

They are very good and at places you can  recognize Harvey Kurtzman’s style of flow of words.

And you can see stories that later appeared in MAD, but funnier.  And I read at least two of the illustrated stories that I remember reading in my preteen years.

If you are a Havey Kurtzman fan or if never heard of Harvey Kurtzman I think it will entertain you.

 

Hunter Family History, part of

 I posted on Facebook 9 years ago:

The cabin , all put together was in Union County, about 9 miles south of Blairsville, in the Choestoe District, all in one piece. A couple years ago it was disassembled and each board marked. Some undecided place and time in the future it will be reassembled. Our ancestor John Hunter and his family built it when they moved from North Carolina. John died in 1848. I think he lived in it about ten years.

The other picture is William A. Hunter/Trammell and his wife Emaline Ray. William was born in 1842 in Macon County, North Carolina. He was the illegitimate child of Rebecca Trammell. Rebecca died before 1850 and he was raised by his grandfather and grand mother Jacob B. and Pollly Hogshead Trammell.

It has been handed down that Polly was a full blooded Cherokee Indian and she drowned while tending her fish traps in the Little Tennessee River. Beware of information handed down: My first cousin and I had DNA blood tests. Both of us were 100% European. If Polly was an full blood Indian, Johnny and I would be at least 1/32nd Indian.

In the Macon County Court Records William A. Trammell's mother Rebecca, in 1842, the year William was born, sued Jason Henderson Hunter, Franklin, NC, town constable of Bastardy and won, even though he had a family. He had to pay Rebecca child support of $100 a year.

Jason Henderson Hunter has an interesting story. He was a soldier in the "Trail of Tears", was a state representative in Missouri and Arkansas. Was charged with a land fraud scheme, formed his own Confederate Civil War unit to fight Union Ships on the Mississippi, went through 3 wives, and at least 3 lovers and a trail of children all his love encounters. The guy couldn't sit still.

Jason Henderson Hunter is the son of John Hunter who built the cabin in Union County (the first picture).

William grew up the name William Trammell, enlisted with the name William Trammell, married with the name William Trammell. Not until after the war, about 1865, did he change it to Hunter. It is a long story but essentially he left Macon County, on the run. His uncle Van Trammell had killed a man named Lambert over a discussion of the Civil War and William gave Van a false alibi so he too was an accessory to murder.

William joined the Confederacy. On, 1 May 1862, he enlisted in Macon County, North Carolina, into the 39th North Carolina Infantry, Company I.

William and his family first moved to Texas, where his son Frank Paris Hunter was born in 1879, in Paris, Texas, but came back east and settled in Woodstock that same year, 1879, near friends he made when he spent time in a private home in Woodstock recuperating from a knee wound during the Battle of Kennesaw Mountain.

The last two pictures are of William and his wife Emaline Ray in their sunset years on their porch on the house he built on Main Street in Woodstock, Ga. The house is now a tool rental store. When his granddaughter Lois Hunter Carroway lived there I picked grapes off a vine William planted.

Pictures: John Hunter's Cabin, Union County, Ga.; William A. Hunter/Trammell & Emaline Ray; Elderly William A. Hunter/Trammell & Emaline on porch of Woodstock, Ga, Home; Frank & Minnie Tyson on Wedding Day, Dec. 21, 1800; and elderly Frank & Minnie Tyson Hunter at home Manget Street, Marietta, Ga.

Dick, Groucho, and Lester

 

On PBS last night we watched Dick Cavett talk about and praise Groucho Marx. First, my first impression was, “Wow! Dick Cavett is now a wrinkled old man!”

We watched him a lot back in the 70s when he was young, witty, charming, articulate with his choice of words, and so on. Through the years he had grown close to Groucho, which he really appreciated and tried to show that appreciation.

Groucho was witty, blunt, wise-cracker, wordy, and Grocho-like. I think it would be fair to say Dick mildly worshipped Groucho, and now in his late 80s he is still t getting more mileage out of his compulsiveness And I enjoyed every minute of it.

Woody Allen said Groucho Marx was like every wise cracking Jewish uncle that showed up at every family get together.

Groucho was a man of letters. He wrote plenty of letters. He published his letters. The name of the book is THE GROUCHO LETTERS. And they were entered into The Library of Congress, which he was proud of. When the cover of the book was shown I told Anna “I have that book!” Which this morning I found it. The name of it is “THE GROUCHO LETTERS”, which now I will start rereading. Not to shoot Groucho down or anything, but I thought all copyrighted material The Library of Congress gets a copy.

We went to THE DICK CAVETT SHOW back in the early 1970s. That night he had as a guest star Carrie Snodgrass of the movie DAIRY OF A MAD HOUSEWIFE. I think along that same time ( same week or near) Governor Lester Maddox walked off his show

Thar's My Boy! Grandboy That Is!

 

The Whole World Is a Stage

 Posted on Facebook 4 years ago:

This morning while inside I heard a horrific noise. It sounded like a bunch of crows screaming at one another.

I went outside to check it out and in the big tree in our front yard, now seasonally bare of leaves a lot of crows, or blackbirds, were up near the top squawking loudly.

And down the hill, three yards down n another big tree was another group of crows or blackbirds, or magpies squawking and looking up this way.

The group our front were clearly looking down at the other group.

It appeared each group of birds were angry with the other group. Was it a territorial kind of thing? Or was it a Romeo and Juliette kind of thing?

Or a bullying issue

The Dance

 Posted 3 years ago on Facebook:

This morning on THE TODAY SHOW they did a piece on THE NUT-CRACKER SUITE ballet that is being performed in Miami to a limited well-spaced audience outside. Of course, the performers are about half in number, wearing masks and of course well-spaced.

It reminded me of the couple of times we have seen THE NUT-CRACKER Ballet live, although, I might have got some of them mixed up with the SWAN LAKE Ballets.

Anyway, I remember one time driving home after seeing a NUT- CRACKER inspired to design the choreography of my own ballet.

The name of it will be

THE DANCE OF THE PEE PEE.

The main person will do a lot of tip-toe dancing with a lot of spins, leaps, and holding his crotch (except when he is leaping – he will need both arms out to gracefully land) and the music will be ocean sounds such as waves.

As most of my schemes it never got beyond the planning stage.

SUNDAY FUNNIES!! MAD Comlcbook #21, UNDER THE WATERFRONT

Text by editor Harvey Kurtzman; Art by Wally Wood.

Click on each page to hopefully make it readable and understandable.

 

Chief Justice Supreme Court John Marshall

 This day in history, January 20, 1801, John Marshall was appointed U.S. Supreme Court Chief Justice.

John Marshall had a sister named Hannah Elizabeth Marshall .

Hannah married Zachariah Petty. They are my ancestors.

So, John Marshall, Supreme Court Justice is an in-law of mine. How do you think I got my job at the Post Office?

Proof is in the Trivia

 I thought today's e-Trivia Page-A-Day question was interesting:

What is the only large mammal known to have ultraviolet vision?

The reindeer, which is also known as the caribou. Its unique ability to see ultraviolet light enables it to see contrasts in the bright white Arctic landscape. This helps the reindeer find its way, locate food, and spot predators.

It proves Santa's operation is more than a myth!

Needed Help

 We just read on Facebook of a homeless lady at a Dollar Tree. The writer was asking where could she take her. Somebody suggested to call the police, they would know and somebody else recommended MUST MINISTRIES, which specializes in the homeless.

It reminded me of a time in high school my friend Patsy Spinks and her parents moved temporarily to a big house on Cherokee Street near North Avenue until their real house could be corrected with whatever needed to be done. One day while Patsy was there alone a lady walked into the house. I don’t know why but Patsy called me to solve the intrusion problem. I rushed over and there stood the lady in question in the foyer. She told us she was the maid. We politely listened to her story of the family she took care of. What they like to eat, and on and on. I politely told her they moved, where was she? She said in the hospital. It was apparent she was senile and a long time before. That was before MUST, so we called the police. They could help her better than we could.

Mike Packard's and My Memory Tested

 In the 8th or 9th grade, about 1955 or 56 a bunch of us boys were talking about gun books. I don’t know why but as a general rule my peers loved gun books. We talked about many gun books available. at the Book Store.

A side note: Mr. Medford owned the Book Store. He is related to the Hunters, through the Tyson family.

Now back to all the gun books for sale at the Book Store had for sale.

Mike Packard suddenly said, “ Hey, did y’all knowThe Book Store has a lots of gun books?”

Sudden silence.

Someone said, something like, “Damn, Mike for the past 10 minute that is all we have been talking about, the gun books at the Book Store.”

Shortly after that Mike and his family moved to the west coast, his father was an engineer at Lockheed.

I wonder, if he is still living, at around 80 years old and does he remember the Book Store and the gun book?

Why would he? And more importantly, why would I?

4 WAY LUNCH, CARTERSVILLE, GA, Politics

 

The 4 Way Lunch.

The 4 Way Lunch downtown  by the railroad tracks in Cartersville in a place that has the reputation of reflecting public temperament.  I heard if you want to know the people’s  feelings of today’s news go to the 4 Way Diner in Cartersville.

Years ago went to the 4 Way Lunch and learned nothing.

No redneck wisecracks, no liberal witty double meanings with eye-rolls.    Nothing.

There  were a few little groups of people talking politely low but I couldn’t hear what they were saying.  It was none of my business.

I paid for my burger and left and took this picture.

Fosters Portrait ca 1904

 Anna's mother Marie's father's side of the family. The picture was taken about 1904.

Left to Right, first row: The father of the family Charles Brooks Foster (1856-1928); Anna's grandfather Paul Everett Foster (1895-1936); and The mother of the family Ardella Catherine Vincent Foster (1857-1933).

Second row: Edgar Bell Foster (1884-1932); Lena Mae Foster (1877-1939); and Claudius Linton Foster (1888-1965).

They lived in the Roswell, Alpharetta, Milton, Georgia, area.

DEATH of Davy's Song

 

Bill Hayes died Friday, at age 98.   You might say, “Bill Who?”

Bill was up to his death a soap opera star of DAYS OF OUR LIVES.  He played Doug Willilams,

He said a few sentences on the soap a couple weeks ago.  At the Christmas party, they said he was upstairs taking a nap or sick or something.

Bill Hayes put out a song years ago years ago that became popular:

 

DAVY CROCKETTE, KING OF THE WILD FRONTIER.

Me in PT Race

 The first picture you might think I am a matador.... and then again, you probably didn't. That is a tee-shirt I'm holding up, not a bull teaser. Speaking of which, in the second picture you might think I am running with the bulls in Spain, but if you look closer, I look more like a runway exhausted lost cow. Both pictures taken in the 80s.

SUNDAY FUNNIES!! Sci-Fi by Wallace Wood

 

Wally Wood was one of the original 4 artists for MAD Comics.  He went on to very good and experimental stuff.

Also, he took his own life.

click on comic to make it readable.

Harvey Kurtzman, Creator of MAD Comicbook & Blood Test

 This is a underground comicbook cover, which was illustrated by the creator of MAD, Harvey Kurtzman.. Underground Comix creators were crazy about Harvey Kurtzman and said he was the father of Underground Comix. Kurtzman jokingly demanded a blood test.

Me the Marboro Man?

 Today, as usual, we were early for a doctor’s appointment. We sat in the parking lot and waited for time to catch up with us. While waiting we saw a sickly old lady going out struggling with her walker, then struggling with her car door, then struggling with. It appeared the car door and the walker were winning. I jumped out and asked could I help. YES and the thanked me heartedly, She asked me to fold up her walker and put it in the back seat. She thanked me again as I held the door open for her to get into the driver’s seat.

I saw on the console she had an opened flip top box Marboro cigarettes. Tch tch.

PS And here I am smoking on top of a waterfall, c1967.

Good Old Days

 Posted on Facebook 10 years ago:

Today while shopping my old friend Jesse was on my mind. The last I heard Jesse was an electrician by trade but by skill and profession, a blackjack dealer in Mississippi.

I think the reason I was thinking about Jesse today was because of the crowd. No matter where you look there are crowds. Jesse had a special trick he used to play on me in crowds: If a lady is in front of me Jesse would manage to get behind me and run his hand around me and either grab or pinch her on the butt and withdraw his hand quickly. The lady would turn around quickly and see me and if she saw Jesse standing behind me he would be looking blankly clueless. More than once I have been threatened because of his sneaky grouping hands. I remember one time in particular we were standing on some steps going up to the second level of a new golf driving range on the 4-Lane across from Dobbins Air Force Base. We were waiting for the crowd of people to move on up to the top so we could follow. The lady in front of me jumped and turned around and gave me a dirty look. It took me a moment to realize Jesse was no longer beside me but behind me. When she turned back around I looked at Jesse and he smiled - showing a mouth full of teeth. He tried doing it again and I blocked his hand, then he tried to force his hand and we made a ruffling noise and turned around and realized the full story. or, I think she did. Her and her boy friend moved up a few people away from one of our reach.

Jesse was also good at coming up behind you when you didn't realize he was near and grab your rectum area and quack like a mad duck. He did it so sneakily and his hands felt so much like a riveting duck's bill it causes you to instantly panic. His first cousin Larry Southern was also very good at quacking and his hand imitating a snapping duck. Those were the good old days.

Underground Atlanta 2nd Go It

 Underground Atlanta was a tourist attraction in Atlanta but not so much now. Many years ago the city more or less built streets over existing streets in certain places downtown. The streets left underneath was primary for trucks and loading docks. The old signs remained. The Federal Annex Post Office front, on Forsyth Strteet where the statue of Phoenix was one passage way to the Underground. Once, when I was a Postal employee there, I remember a lady mail clerk, who was nice and polite, but at lunch she preferred to eat her lunch alone in her car parked in Underground Atlanta. Once a policeman saw her sitting in her car and told her to move on. She refused. He threatened her and she more or less knocked him a whallop. He called for backups and backups came and she put two in the hospital before they subdued her. She was a big woman.

When tourist traps, bars, giftshops nightclubs opened we were some of the first to enjoy the place. I remember seeing the WIT’S END PLAYERS perform there. It seemed like they had a play they named THE BURNING OF ATLANTA but I could be wrong. I think Dante’ DOWN THE HATCH was another.
When my Navy buddies visited it was the place to take them, along with the Polaris rotating on top of Regency Hotel.
My friend Franky Hunter’s dad (no relation) Francis Hunter carried relatives visiting . they parked in the street, not in a parking lot and was immediately approached my muggers. Francis whipped both of them. One can do wonders when they are showing off..

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

 Posted on Facebook 5 years ago:

New Years Eve is coming up in about four days, which reminded me of a New Years Eve story:

Remember this event happened when I was a teenager with a very low ethics code. I’m a nicer person now.

I think it was 1958, my junior year. Then Cobb County was a dry county. Selling hard booze was illegal. So, we had to drive to the Fulton County, at the county line, The River Package Store, to get our whisky. It was December the 31st and we had a party we were invited to, but it was a BYOB party. We were under age to buy alcoholic beverages anyway. At the River Package store, hanging out in the parking lot we could not talk anybody getting out of their cars to go in to do us a favor and buy us a bottle. So, finally we drove back to Marietta empty handed.

We were sitting in Monty’s mother’s car wondering what next when I saw my uncle stumbling down the street. My uncle was a casualty of WWII. He never got over all the killing he did and saw in the war. I think he was homeless off and on.

He saw us sitting in the car and walked over. I’m not sure he recognized me or not. He asked how “You boys doing?”

“Fine, what about yout?”

Then he asked would we mind giving him a ride someplace.

“NO, of course not.”

He asked us to carry him down to a Shell Station on Powder Springs Street. We did. He asked us to wait on him. We did. He went in and came back out with a brown paper bag, about pint size. He then asked us to take him north of Marietta where a new subdivision was being built. We did.

The new subdivision was off Kennesaw Avenue. It was Keeler Woods.

He asked us to wait on him. We did. He, with his brown paper bag, went behind a partially built house and behind some foliage and returned without the brown paper bag.

We carried him back to the North Park Square and let him off about where we picked him up.

After dark we went back to Keeler Woods, with the car lights burning went back to the house my uncle left his brown paper bag and looked behind every bush and tree and found what we were seeking, a pint bottle of moonshine.

We went to the party and with the moonshine and grape juice we made “Purple Jesus”. Purple Jesus got a number of us teenagers drunk that night and even temporarily blinded one. Well, not really blinded, but he could only see blue and red smears of light.

HAPPY NEW YEARS!

My Shameful Jack Daniel's No 7 Hat

 

Several years ago on our drive from Nashville we detoured and went to Lynchburg, Tennessee, and toured the Jack Daniel’s Whiskey operation.  Yes, we did buy a bottle of product in the museum, which is a technical wiggle, because the county Lynchburg is in is dry.   We also bought a Jack Daniel ball cap.  I liked it, il was boldly black and white letters.

Back home, the first time I wore it was on my daily walk. I forgot exactly where I walked, I think it was probably a huge shabby vacant run-down shopping center that has since been bulldozed away and now in the rebuilding phase. 

I saw a tall unkempt man stagger from around a corner and we were coming towards each other.  The way he was staggering I was pretty sure he was drunk.

What would our interaction be?  Would we politely nod, speak, or what?  Would he beg some money?  Would he grab me?  We got shaking hands distance and he looked above my eyes, more than likely he was looking at me Jack Daniel’s ball cap.

He frowned and bitterly said, “Do you drink that shit?”

“Sometimes.” I replied.

I haven’t worn "that shit" since.

Hero or Nuts?

 Posted on Facebook 5 Years ago:

One night when I was a teenager Larry Holcomb came by my family's home to show me a car he had just bought from Bobby McEntyre. It was a black Chevy, 1955 I think. The motor rumbled in deep breaths instead of purring.

We drove it out to Varner’s Drive-In for him to show our friends his new purchase. I remember one friend wanted to shine a flashlight around the back seat, looking for Bobby’s “peter tracks”.

After spending an hour or so at Varner’s we got back into Larry’s Chevvy for him to take me back home.

My family and I lived on Richard Street, which ran into the 4-Lane across from the present parking lot of White Water Park. We were going down the hill, with the Richard Street turn off at the bottom of the hill when the car motor stopped running. The car settled to a stop at the bottom of the hill. We got out and tried to push it off the road, but it would not move. It was on level ground, either frontward or backwards we would be pushing it uphill, which was impossible for two teenagers.

Then we heard the engine and groans of a big truck coming downhill, directly towards us. We ran over to the side of the road.

Then I brilliantly remembered that if I put the brake pedal on the red taillights would light up and the truck driver would see it and pull into the other lane

I ran over and jumped into the Chevvy about to save the day.

Larry screamed at me, telling me to come back.

The trucks headlights' light completely filled the inside of the car with light.

I stepped on the brake pedal.

The truck made a loud screeching sound, but whizzed by me.

I told myself I was a fool.

Larry told me I was a fool too, but thanked me anyway

SUNDAY FUNNIES!! MAD Comicbook #21, SLOW MOTION

 Story by editor Harvey Kurtzman; Art by Jack Davis.  

Take it away Boys!

Varsity Trip

 Posted on Facebook 5 years ago:

I went to he Varsity eatery. The Varsity in Atlanta is know as "Varsity Drive-In", but this one in Kennesaw there is no curb service, so it is "Varsity Walk-In". I haven't been too in a while. I got a table by the window. Next to me was an old man who apparently had not had a Varsity chili dog and onion rings in a long time. After each bite he would either roll his eyes, bang on the table, or squeal YES! I turned around and told the old man to get a room and realized I was talking to a window to my reflection.

My Varsity f-shirt by Jack Davis

My Grandpa Frank Hunter Saved My Life

 I posted this on Facebook years ago:

On this cold frosty morning I thought of backing up to a fireplace. Wait! I have a little adventure that comes with this thought.

When I just turned seven we moved in my grandfather Frank Paris Hunter. His wife, my grandmother had just did. He and I became good friends. He kept his moonshine hidden in the coals underneath the house. Instead of fire wood we had a pit under the front porch that kept our coal supply and grandpa's whiskey and wine. The booze was our secret.

In the mornings Grandpa got up before anybody else and felt it was his job to butter the loaf bread slices and later Mama would slide the bread in the oven.

On cold mornings before anybody got up Grandpa started the fireplace with his coals. Besides the stove that wss the only heat source in the house.

I was usually the second one up. The first thing I would do is back up to the fireplace to warm my legs. The last morning I did that a hot red cinder popped out of the fireplace and my pajamas instantly burst into flames. It caught me by surprise and I panicked and screamed.

Instantly my grandpa, in his 70s threw me down and somehow beat the flames out.

I don't remember going to the hospital, which would have been the Old Hospital on Cherokee Street. As a general rule my parents believed more in home remedies over ER's.

But I do remember my legs being covered with blisters for weeks. Very painful.

But here I am about 70 years later typing about it.

The photo is my grandfather Frank Paris Hunter on the steps of his house, about 3 years he saved my life.